


One Bite

by Runs_With_Wolves1



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Animal Instincts, Animal Traits, Assassin's Creed: Syndicate, Blood, Breeding, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming Out, Depression, Drunk Jacob Frye, Eagle Vision (Assassin's Creed), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fatherhood, Fight Club - Freeform, First Kiss, First Time, Full Shift Werewolves, Gangs, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Hidden Blade, Human-Werewolf Interactions, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Knotting, Leap of Faith, London Underground, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mpreg, Mpreg Birth, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Near Death Experiences, Pack Dynamics, Parent Jacob, Period-Typical Homophobia, Possessive Behavior, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Protective Siblings, Protectiveness, Secret Relationship, Secrets, Siblings, Suicidal Thoughts, Supernatural Elements, Tags Are Fun, Templars, Trains, Twins, Unplanned Pregnancy, Violence, Werebabies, Werewolf Biology, Werewolf Bites, Werewolf Mates, Werewolf Turning, Werewolves, Wolfed Out Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-15 22:15:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5802172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Runs_With_Wolves1/pseuds/Runs_With_Wolves1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jacob didn't quite know where he stood with Roth, or vise versa. Yet he still found himself heading to Roth for help as he bled out. Maybe, just maybe Roth could help.</p><p>--</p><p>Maxwell Roth has been alone for many years. With no pack around, he finds himself loosing his mind as the wolf in him goes crazy. Until he meets Jacob. The howling and screaming in his head finally quieted down. Maybe, just maybe Jacob could be pack, could be his mate. </p><p>--</p><p>Werewolves, mpreg, and more!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_'Evie's goin' to be pissed'_

 Jacob staggered down an alleyway, hands pressed against the bleeding gunshot wound in his abdomen.

_'She's gonna be right pissed I died from such a stupid mistake.'_

The day had been a good day. It had started out mostly normal; wake up, eat, have Evie nag him, go off and kill some blighters, a couple cargo heists, nothing to consider actually dangerous. He'd been fighting a couple of Starrick's lower goons when he'd gotten cocky. He'd turned his back on what he'd thought was a downed man, only to jerk at as a bullet ripped through his back and out his front. Now Jacob was stumbling down an alley, headed for the closest person he knew might help.

Roth.

Jacob wasn't sure what he and Roth were to each other. Their first meeting had been a mixture of 'are you an enemy' and barely concealed flirting on both ends. Now they weren't enemies, maybe they were even friends, Jacob couldn't tell. There was something there between the two of them, something that seemed to electrify the air. It didn't matter at this point, Roth was the closest person and Jacob's only hope of surviving, slim chance that it was.

The back of the theater was up ahead and luckily Roth just so happened to be standing outside near his carriage. Jacob called out to him, or at least he tried to. The assassin only managed a gurgling cough of blood before he dropped to his knees. Roth amazingly heard him and looked up, eyes widening. Just as Jacob was about to fall face first into the filthy cobblestone, Maxwell Roth was there. The man pulled Jacob towards himself and tried to help stop the bleeding.

"Jacob, my dear! What happened?!"

Jacob couldn't answer as black started to fill his vision. He reached upwards as if calling for heaven before he was washed away into unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

 

Jacob's eyes burst open as he screamed. He wasn't sure where he was or what was going on, but he knew he had to run. The pain in his abdomen was nothing to his shoulder. Something was ripping him apart, crushing him. Jacob screamed again as he thrashed, desperately trying to get free. The razor sharp vice started to slacken as Jacob once again fell unconscious.

\--

Jacob came to more slowly than the last time, but in no less pain. His gut and shoulder no longer hurt, but instead his entire body burned. Jacob opened his eyes, vision blurry. He was laying on something soft and something cool was pressed to his forehead. It didn't matter. His muscles ached, his bones felt brittle and his blood boiled.

_'Huh, so this is hell? Guess it really is this hot.'_

"Jacob, my boy. Open your eyes."

When had he closed them? Eyes open, he stared up at a large black blob. Who was that? He sounded familiar. Maybe it was his father? No, Ethan Frye would not be in hell. . . or talk to Jacob so softly.

"Come now, drink."

A glass was pressed to the young assassin's lips and he drank greedily. The cool liquid made his throat feel better, but his stomach rolled at the intrusion. Jacob turned sideways and vomited. He laid there panting as his vision blurred even further. Jacob slipped under again.

\--

The third time Jacob woke, it was more clear. He opened his eyes a blinked at the low light. Where was he? Last thing he remembered clearly was stumbling to Roth's after being shot. Jacob looked sideways and saw Roth. The man was asleep in an arm chair next to a warm fire, slumped over as he rested his head on his fist. Jacob looked around a little more and saw his assassin gear and clothes. Glancing down, he realized he naked but was thankfully buried under many blankets in the middle of a large four-poster bed.

Moving to sit up, Jacob prepared for the pain. . . and felt nothing. His body was achy and he was tired, but there was no sharp pain to indicate he'd been shot at all.

How-how long had he been asleep? Was it long enough for his wound to heal? Had he lived through one of those coma mysteries? Jacob pulled back the covers to look at the damage left behind, only there was no damage. No scar or anything. It was like the wound had never even existed.

What the hell was going on?

"Jacob?"

Jacob jerked around to stare at Roth, who was stirring.

"Roth? What-what happened?"

"You were shot, my dear."

"I know that! What happened to the wound?! There's not even a scar!"

Something was wrong, Jacob could feel it. His body was different. He couldn't place where or how, but he could tell. Roth took a deep breath and sighed.

"Jacob, you must understand. You were bleeding out. My options were very limited. I did what I could."

"But what did you do?"

Maxwell pointed at Jacob's shoulder. There, across his collarbone, was a huge scar. It was in the shape of some large dog bite. Jacob ran his fingers over it and shivered at the spark of pleasure.

"What happened to me?"

It was barely a whisper, but Roth heard it all the same.

"I turned you."

Jacob swallowed, afraid to ask. He didn't want to know, but he had to. He had to know.

"Into what?"

Maxwell Roth's eyes turned yellow as his teeth sharpened.

"Into a wolf, my dear."


	2. Chapter 2

Jacob shivered as he gazed at Roth, the older man's features becoming less and less human. Jacob did not believe in monsters, except for the human variety. Ghosts, ghouls, dragons, or the strange animal that people were reporting swimming the Loch, were just not something Jacob could believe. There was no concrete evidence. It was half the reason he helped Dickens. Jacob sometimes found himself even doubting God. Things like vampire, banshees and- and werewolves did not exist. Yet standing in front of him was proof that there were things science couldn't explain. A chill went down the assassin's spine, a mixture of fear and adrenaline spiked in him. He should run, Jacob knew he should. He should get out as fast as he could and get back to the train. He wasn't prepared for this, for whatever was going to happen next.

Jacob stayed. He always had been a bit drawn to dangerous things, and Roth was most definitely dangerous.

"You- you're a werewolf?"

Roth's face turned back normal and he sighed, as if he was almost sad or disappointed.

"No, Jacob my dear, _we_ are werewolves."

Everything froze. The world fell out from under the assassin, a feeling of free falling. _Jacob, you must understand. You were bleeding out. My options were very limited. I did what I could. I turned you._

_I **turned** you._

_I turned **you**._

No. No, it was impossible. Jacob couldn't be- he didn't feel any different!

But yeah, he did feel different. Everything around him seemed sharper, more clear. Inside he could feel something, something not human. Something animal like.

He wasn't human. He wasn't **human** **!** Fuck, that was wrong!

"Jacob, breathe."

Jacob noticed his breath was coming in short pants, the beginning of a panic attack. Roth was kneeling on the bed next to him, his hand on Jacob's shoulder.

"Get-get off!"

Jacob shoved Roth away from him as he jumped out of bed. Quickly grabbing his clothes, he slid on his pants.

"Dear boy, listen-"

"No. You listen. You stay the fuck away from me."

 Jacob pulled on his shirt, bundled his weapons into his assassin long coat and ran out the door. There were noises everywhere, so loud Jacob dropped his stuff and fell to his knees. He could hear everything! People's whispered conversations from down the street, the cats in the sewers hunting mice. He could also hear Roth coming up behind him. Jacob grabbed his clothes and weapons and bolted again. He didn't stop running, not even to pull on his coat or to put on his hidden blades. As he got closer to the center of the city, smells started to overtake him. Jesus, the city smelled rank!

Jacob made it to the train station, weaving in and out of the crowd as he tried to block out the sounds and smells. Everything was becoming a blur to his senses, and the assassin could feel a migraine coming on. People stared at Jacob and moved out of his way, but he didn't care why. He just needed to get home. Jacob ran until he saw the train hideout in the station. It was just starting to leave and he scrambled into the back of the slow moving train. Dropping his bundle of clothes and weapons on the sofa, he sighed. While his senses were still sensitive, there wasn't an overload of information. The train was familiar and Jacob could deal better with this.

"Jacob!"

Evie, who had been sitting at her desk, rushed forward to him making to grab him for either a hug or to check him for injuries. Jacob flinched back and winced as Evie pulled up short, a look of confusion and concern marred her face.

_Shit. Evie._

"Sorry."

Evie reached up for him again, slower this time and grabbed his shoulders. Jacob tried not to think about the mark on his right shoulder. The bite. The inhumane curse that had been placed on him.

"Jacob, are you alright? You're covered in blood!"

Jacob looked down and realized why people had been moving out of his way. The front of his shirt and pants were stained with dried blood.

"Oh"

"This is a bullet hole!"

Evie saw the tear in the fabric and lifted up his shirt. There was no wound or scar, and Jacob tried not to think about how that had come to be.

"Are you hurt? You didn't come home yesterday."

"No, 'm fine. Blood's not mine."

Jacob knew he was mumbling, something Evie hated. The elder twin didn't say anything, but pushed Jacob down until he sat on the sofa.

"What happened?"

"Evie, what would you do-"

Jacob stopped mid sentence, frozen in sudden fear. He couldn't tell Evie. He couldn't tell his twin about what happened. She would kill him. Literally. He was a monster now, and Assassin's put down monsters. Jacob wondered if any of the Templars they'd killed had been like him, had been wolves. Was he any better than the Templars? Was he going to have to fight Evie one day?

Jacob jumped up from the sofa and away from his sister. He rushed to the door and threw it open. The tracks moved quickly below him as he dropped to his knees and was sick. Jacob vomited over the side of the train, vaguely aware of Evie rubbing his back. After a few minutes, he dry heaved one last time before leaning back.

"Come on, Jacob."

Evie pulled him back into the train and led him over to his bed. He sat down heavily and rubbed a hand down his face. He realized he had been crying. He'd been crying in front of Evie. Shame and embarrassment washed over him. Evie ran her fingers through Jacob's hair as she seemed to read his mind.

"None of that Jacob Frye. I've seen you cry before, as have you seen me cry. Now wait here, I'll go get you some water."

They younger Frye twin was left alone, scared and confused.

What was he supposed to do now?


End file.
